Alternate Ending To Book 5
by Lady Devonna
Summary: Not a great title, but what was I supposed to say? Just a "what-if" I came up with. Here's the beginning.


A/N: As per the title, this is an alternate ending for book five. No, Sirius Black does not die, but that's not why I wrote it. I wasn't HAPPY when he died, victim to Ms. Rowling's sudden fondness for killing off characters, but I haven't chosen this as my current HP obsession. I just thought of another ending, which will probably go on several chapters. This starts a little ways into Chapter forty-two, Out of the Fire, on the top of page 736 in my hardcover first edition, if you want to look it up. I'll include a bit of the original dialogue so you can see just where I start deviating.

"Sirius is being tortured NOW!" shouted Harry. "We haven't got time to waste—"

"But if this is a trick of V-Voldemort's—Harry, we've got to check, we've got to—"

"How?" Harry demanded. "How're we going to—" And suddenly he remembered Sirius's words after Christmas. "I want you to use it if you need me, all right?" He had never opened the package. If it would reach Sirius, at least he could prove to Hermione that his godfather was being tortured.

Without another word, Harry dashed out of the classroom, up the stairs, without pausing for breath, pushing people out of his way and attracting several angry exclamations. He leapt past Dean and Seamus, who were cheerfully discussing the end of exams celebration and barely noticed him. His scar throbbed painfully, stabbing particularly as he reached his trunk. Voldemort hadn't yet killed Sirius, though. Harry knew he would sense it.

It seemed to take an eternity to extract the package from the myriad of rubbish that had accumulated in his trunk. Another year went by as he cut the string and tore off the paper. O small, square mirror fell on his lap. It was old and tarnished, but seemed perfectly ordinary. His own face stared back at him.

Frustrated and angry (his scar twinged again), he made to fling the mirror away, and noticed a note on the back, in Sirius's handwriting.

_This is a two-way mirror. I've got the other._

_If you need to speak to me, just say my name_

_into it; you'll appear in my mirror and I'll be_

_able to talk in yours. James and I used to use_

_them when we were in separate detentions._

Harry swallowed. Looking directly into the mirror, his hands trembling, he said, loudly and clearly, "Sirius."

The mirror grew hot in his hands, and turned black. Nothing happened for a few moments, and Harry was about to run back to tell Hermione Sirius was gone when the mirror cleared, and Sirius, looking tired but not at all tortured, stared blearily back at him.

"Hey, Harry. Something wrong?"

"Sirius… You're—You're okay!"

Sirius blinked, looking confused. "Er… Shouldn't I be?"

"I just saw… I mean I thought I just saw— Voldemort torturing you!" Harry felt his heartbeat going back to normal. "I guess… I guess it was just a dream… But it felt as real as that snake!"

"Then it probably wasn't a dream. Not exactly." Sirius's face was suddenly very worried. "Harry, have you been practicing Occlumency?"

"Um…" Harry suddenly felt very, very stupid. "No, not really." His face was burning. He'd been about to run across the country, possibly into Voldemort's waiting hands.

"I hate to say this Harry, but go back to Snape. We can't risk anything like this happening again. And next time Dumbledore's here, I'll have him call you up on the mirror. What you saw might be important, and Voldemort will be furious that his plan didn't work." Sirius sighed. "Tell him from me, I'll introduce his incredible nose to his skinny ass if he bothers you."

Harry remembered what he'd seen in the penseive and changed the subject. "Are you okay, Sirius. You, uh, you look tired."

"Buckbeak's managed to impale his wing somehow. Try nursing a moody hippogriff." Sirius smiled. "Let me know if anything comes up, Harry." Sirius's face disappeared.

Harry lay back on the bed. He knew he had to go and tell Ron, Hermione, and Ginny that everything was all right, but he needed a moment to feel ashamed of himself, first. Hermione was right. He had a _saving-people-thing_, all right, and he had very nearly handed himself over to Voldemort.

Disgusted with himself, Harry stood and made for the door. It opened before he reached it, revealing Ron, Ginny, and Hermione outside.

"Where's Luna?" He asked dully, to delay having to admit that he'd never learned occlumency.

"We told her there were flying knarls living in the owlry," Ginny said patiently. "Now, do you want to explain what's going on?"

"Nothing, except Voldemort's feeding me dreams." Harry sat on he edge of his bed and stared resolutely at his feet. "Sirius is fine."

"How do you know?" asked Hermione, who looked pale and flustered. Harry pointed the the mirror, which had fallen off the bed. She picked it up and examined it carefully. "Oh, my! These are really hard to make! I've tried, but the charm wore off in a few days."

"So, You-Know-Who didn't have Sirius?" Ron breathed a sigh of relief. "Wait, doesn't that mean…"

Hermione looked up from the mirror. "That's right! Harry, this is just what Dumbledore was afraid of! Voldemort's trying to manipulate you… You've got to go back to occlumency!"

"I know, that's what Sirius said." Harry gulped nervously. "And… There's only a few days left. What am I supposed to do over summer?"

"Well, maybe Snape'll, I don't know, give you lessons by owl, or maybe Dumbledore might help you…" Ron trailed off and shrugged. "Doesn't sound fun either way, mate."

Harry stood. "I'm going for a walk."

Ginny and Hermione grabbed Ron when he got up to follow. They all watched him as he left, in a way that him feel like a new and somewhat revolting zoo exhibit. Harry ignored the several people who hailed him as he passed through the common room. A dozen things about his situation were quite miserable, but the worst by far was the prospect of asking Snape for occlumency lessons.


End file.
